


Aut viam inveniam aut faciam

by turkey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Fic, Kid Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turkey/pseuds/turkey
Summary: At 10 years old, Dean Winchester already carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. With an abusive, drunk for a father and a baby brother to protect, who takes care of Dean?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> This is my first time posting, so please bear with me. I will update my tags as I go. This will be a multi-chapter work. I hope I do these characters justice. Please feel free to comment and let me know what you think. Also, I have no beta so all mistakes are my own.

The thing about Dean is he knew he shouldn't have bothered his Dad in the first place. He knew his Dad had an important job to do and taking care of a sick 10-year-old was not part of the plan but, when John roughly shoved him out of the way and onto the floor, it still hurt. It all started the other day when Dean woke up with scratchy throat and an intense pain that rested in his temples and behind his eyes, and chills that shook his small frame, despite the oppressive summer heat. Dean didn't search the house for medicine because he knew there was none, he had rummaged through every cupboard and dresser drawer a few days back to get some for Sammy, who had one of his bad headaches, and had given him what he had found. He wanted to ask his Dad to buy more but he remembered the last time he asked his Dad to buy something he ended up with a black eye and split lip. So, when he woke up this morning, his sheets wet with sweat and the inability to focus his eyes, he knew he needed to do something. There was no way Dean could take care of Sammy in this condition and, by the way his Dad was packing, it looked like he would be alone for a while. So, with all the strength and courage he could gather he followed his Dad into the kitchen and asked him if he could stay a few days longer? if he could help with Sammy? if he could buy Dean some medicine?

"Get the FUCK out of my way Dean. I swear to God if I forget something important because of your pissing and moaning this morning, I will beat you within an inch of your life!" And with that, Dean was knocked to the floor, and sat there while his Dad zipped up the last of his duffel bags and walked out the door.

Dean sat on the cold linoleum floor and tried to compose himself before going to see Sammy. He furiously rubbed his eyes and scratched away the tears that escaped down his cheeks. The big, fat tears mixed with snot from his nose and stained the front of his shirt. He was so tired and so sick and had no one to turn to, nowhere to go, he didn't have school as refuge. Unlike other kids his age, Dean hated summer break...where there was no temporary escape from his drunk father who pounded on his flesh until bruises blossomed, where there was no guaranteed lunch, or any food for that matter, and no school nurse who would let Dean lay down in her office and close his eyes and rest.

Nurse Kathy was a middle-aged woman with long, brown curls that framed her soft face, and Dean thought she looked like an angel. He had first met her when he fell off the monkey bars in kindergarten and was surprised by her gentleness, the way she smiled at him and reassured him that he would be okay, the way she gave him a kiss on his forehead and an ice pack for his bruised shin, and the way she smelled when she gave him a hug and sent him back to recess. The smell of her perfume lingered on his clothes, and in his nose, and it provided comfort. The idea of being important, worthy of attention and care, was not lost on Dean and he sought out Nurse Kathy like a moth to a flame. Sometimes, when his Dad had gone too far, and had banned Dean from food for a few days, he would go to the nurse's office and she would take one look at his too thin frame, hallow cheeks, and pale skin and give him a brown paper bag with a muffin, banana, and juice box. Other times, when he would come in during lunch period complaining of a headache or stomach ache, she would let him lay on the bed, amongst a sea of stuffed animals, and let him drift off into a peaceful sleep. Sometimes when Dean would wake up, there would be a bag of clothes and shoes that Nurse Kathy had put in his bookbag (stuff she said her boys had long outgrown) that he could take home for him and Sammy. Dean didn't think she knew of the bruises and scars that decorated his skin, and hoped she never would, he often worried about how she would react, and he never wanted to do anything to upset her. But now it was summer, and there was no one there to help him, to take care of him. So, with shaky legs, Dean got up off the kitchen floor, inhaled and exhaled deeply and made his way over to the couch where Sammy was watching cartoons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I Just wanted to warn you that this chapter deals with abuse. The italicized section is a flashback.  
> I hope you are enjoying the story so far, any and all comments are appreciated and welcomed!  
> I hope you have a wonderful night!

Dean wasn't sure how long he had slept but, judging by the puddle of drool that had collected on his pillow, and that cartoons had been replaced by an infomercial, it must have been for some time. At first, he wasn't sure where he was, and he sat up in a panic, eyes feverishly scanning the tiny living room and kitchen until they landed on Sammy who was playing with cars on the kitchen table. Dean let out a sigh, sat back down on the couch and stared off at nothing. Sam approached Dean quietly, exaggerating his movements by walking on his tippy toes.

"Dean? Dean, are you okay?"

"Yeah...Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine...just not feeling 100%." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and took a slow, deep breath, in hopes it would quell the nausea that was creeping up his throat. "Sorry I fell asleep on you. You should have woken me up, it's way past lunch, you must be starving?"

Sam shook his head and looked to the kitchen and then back at Dean. "I.... already ate.... I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, just like you taught me! The jars were almost empty, but I used my finger and got the rest out of the bottom. I figured it was okay to eat the rest cause you're not feeling well. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, Sammy, I could never be mad at you. I’m glad you had something to eat, sorry I slept so long." With that, Dean slowly made his way to the kitchen, and with shaky hands and unsteady feet began cleaning up Sammy's lunch time mess. By the time he was done, he was too exhausted to move, to think, and he slid down the wall of the kitchen and onto the floor. Sam came in asking if they could go outside later and play but, before Dean could answer, he threw up all over himself, it was bile mostly, and as it dripped from his nose it left an acrid taste in his mouth. He slumped down onto the floor until he was laying on his side, ignoring the throbbing pain of his bruised ribs. He must have passed out because the next thing he knew, Sam was kneeling over him, crying.

"DEAN! DEAN! Please say something! Wake up, I'm scared!"

Dean's eyes flew open and saw panic and fear written all over Sam's face, that’s when he knew he needed help, so he called Uncle Bobby. Dean knew he shouldn't have called Uncle Bobby, his Dad had made it perfectly clear with punches, slaps, and kicks, that Uncle Bobby was not to be bothered. That he was John's friend, not a baby sitter to "2 pathetic brats" who couldn't take care of themselves, Dean still has the scars from that lesson.

_Dean is 6 years old and he's scared, there's a bad thunderstorm outside and Sammy has had a high fever for 2 days and his Dad hasn't been home in 3 days. He doesn't know what to do, there's no one to help him and he's so, so scared. He gets that his Dad has an important job and that he must travel, and that Sammy is his responsibility but, he's too young, too inexperienced, and really scared, so he calls Uncle Bobby for help. Uncle Bobby drives 75 miles to take care of Sam. Dean peeks through the bedroom door and watches as Uncle Bobby rocks Sammy to sleep by stroking his hair and singing him a lullaby. The tune is hauntingly familiar to Dean and he can just piece together enough memories to understand that his mother sang him that song as well. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes and he pretends that it's his mother singing to him, and he slowly falls asleep perched outside of Sammy's bedroom door. In just two short days, John returns, wobbly from drink, and tells Uncle Bobby it's time to leave, that Dean's just “dramatic” and he needs to" grow-up" and "be a man." Uncle Bobby leaves rather quickly, a silent apology in his eyes. He offers to stay, to help with the boys, but John slams the door in his face. Once he hears the telltale signs of Bobby' s car backing out of the driveway and furiously driving away, John jumps on his eldest son._

_"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?! You had to call Bobby and whine to him like a stupid bitch! You had one job to do! One job! You stupid piece of shit." That's when John slaps Dean so hard across the face that his teeth slash the inside of his cheek and he tastes blood. His dad has hit him before, but this is the first time he has made him bleed. His Dad doesn't stop hitting him until Dean's pleas for forgiveness and promises to be better, turn into moans and whimpers and then the silence of unconsciousness._

So, when Dean picks up the phone and dials Uncle Bobby's number he understands the implications of his actions, understands that this call for help, this need to be cared for, will end in blood and bruises, but he calls anyway. He calls because Sammy needs to be taken care of and he can’t do it alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> Thank you for taking time to read my story, I hope you are enjoying it so far! Thank you for the kudos, they always make me smile. Comments are always welcomed and appreciated. I just wanted to let you know that this chapter deals with abuse and the italicized section is a flasback.  
> I hope you all have a wonderful night! :)

Dean dialed the number and waited, it rang ten times and, right when he was about to hang up, Uncle Bobby answered.

"Hello?" Silence followed, Dean froze, his head felt too heavy, like it wasn't on his shoulders properly, his ears began to ring, and he suddenly couldn't hear anything. Uncle Bobby was talking but it was all muffled, like he was under water. Dean tried to focus but couldn’t seem to ground himself, he held on to the phone cord like a lifeline, frantically looking around the kitchen for some way out, and then, his eyes landed on the fridge. The fridge... Sammy's artwork... the picture he drew of Dean on the first day of kindergarten... proudly displayed in the center, framed by their Dad's old work schedules and take-out menus.

  _Sammy comes home from the first day of kindergarten with a gift for Dean. He hands it to Dean with a huge grin on his face._ _"The teacher asked us to draw something we love, and I drew you! Johnny drew ice cream and Hannah drew her new puppy, but I drew you! I even wrote my name!" True enough, in the center of the paper there was a circle with long legs and misshapen eyes that Dean guessed was supposed to be him, and a big backward S, A, and M._

_"Sammy, this is great! You did such a good job, thanks so much!"  Dean decides to display it on the refrigerator, he remembers seeing something like that on a tv show once, where the kid's drawings were hung on the refrigerator with the same reverence given to a masterpiece in a museum._

_"Do you think Daddy will like it?" Sam asked, wide-eyed and hopeful._

_"He will love it Sammy! If he was here, he'd probably take us out to ice cream to celebrate!" Dean hates lying to Sam, he knows this isn't even remotely true, but he doesn't want to crush his spirits, his hope, his love for his Dad. In Sam's eyes, his father is a brave and mighty warrior who defends the world against demons and monsters, Dean knows better. Dean knows the truth, has learned it through broken bones, and a hollowness in his heart and stomach that he is never able to fill. The truth is, his Dad is a long- distance truck driver, who neglects his sons, and has a penchant for beating is elder son until he is black and blue. Dean knows that John Winchester is the real monster.  But for now, Sammy doesn't need to know any of that, for right now, he was just needs to be a kid who is proud of his artwork and loves his big brother._

Suddenly, everything rushes back with striking clarity, Dean was calling Uncle Bobby to ask for help with Sammy. Uncle Bobby's gruff voice got louder and clearer.

"Who the hell is calling me and what do you want? I'm going to ask one more time and then I'm hanging up. This better not be a prank call, if I catch you, you're in for it!"

Dean cleared his throat and willed himself to speak, "U-Uncle B-Bobby..."

"Dean? Is that you? Speak up son, you know I ain't got good hearing."

Dean tried again, "U-Uncle B-Bobby, it's me, Dean. I know I'm not supposed to call you b-but Dad's not around and I'm real sick. "

 "What do you need son? You need me to come and take care of you until your better? You know I will, just say the word and I'll be there."

Dean's chin begins to wobble, and his eyes fill up with tears because of the kind gesture.

 "N-No, Uncle Bobby, i-it's not for me, I'm c-calling about Sam. I-I'm too sick to take care of him and I'm all alone."

Bobby wants to scream out of frustration and smash the phone against the wall, how dare John do this again? How dare the son-of-a-bitch leave his sons when they so clearly need him? He wants to say all of this, wants to cuss-out John Winchester, wants to put his fist through the wall, but decides against it. Instead, he clears his throat, and as calmly as he can speak through gritted teeth, he lets Dean know he'll be there in a few hours.

Dean hangs up the phone and slumps back down onto the kitchen floor, the cold linoleum feels good on his feverish skin. From his position, he can see food crumbs, discarded wrappers, and dust that has made its way underneath the stove, and he wishes he could move himself to the living room to be with Sammy, but he can't. He is so tired and, the thought of moving seems impossible. He waits, and within minutes, Sammy is there dragging his pillow and blanket behind him to give to Dean. While the linoleum feels good on his skin, he takes the pillow and blanket with an understanding this is all Sammy has, this is the only way he can help. This isn't the first time Sammy's tended to Dean while he lays on the floor, unable to move. It's a lesson that has been learned, a ritual in the aftermath of his Dad's rage, when Dean has been beaten so bad his legs betray him. Only after the storm has passed, does Sammy emerge from his bedroom, with red-rimmed eyes, and moves quietly to Dean with his pillow and blanket. They are offerings of love. The pillow case on Sammy's pillow is threadbare and, the condition of his blanket is much worse, but Dean takes it because Sammy gives it to him, and somehow it makes him feel better, albeit for a short while until his fever makes his joints ache and his teeth chatter. Sammy is there for him, and when Dean closes his eyes, Sammy begins to hum a song that their mother used to sing to Dean when he was young, and he slowly drifts off to sleep.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> So, I really love Bobby's relationship with Dean and Sammy so I decided to explore that in this chapter. That being said, this chapter is totally Bobby-centric!! I also want to warn you that there is abuse in this chapter.  
> Thank you for all of your kudos and comments, it makes me so happy that you are enjoying it so far!  
> I hope you are all having a wonderful night!! xoxo

Within 5 minutes of hanging up the phone, Bobby was headed out in his old pick up truck to see Dean and Sammy. Thanks to his career as a trucker, Bobby was always prepared to leave at the spur of the moment, a neatly packed canvas duffel bag waited for him in the passenger's seat footwell. Truth be told, he had been waiting for this call...any call from the Winchester boys...to prove to them he was a good guy, someone they could count on and trust. He knew he fucked-up the last time he tried to help the boys and he'd been waiting for a way to make it up to them ever since.

It was four years ago but he remembers the call like it was yesterday, the faint sound of someone breathing too quickly on the other end of the line, and the way Dean's quivering voice broke the silence. With all the bravery a six-year-old could muster, Dean asked Bobby if he could help, explained that Sammy had a fever and John hadn't been home in a few days. He also remembers the dilapidated motel, the smell of cigarettes and mold in the boy's room, and of course, the vacant look in Dean's eyes. Over the course of the next few days, Bobby took care of Dean and Sammy as his own, and then John came home. They had just come back from getting ice cream, a celebratory dessert for Dean who had lost his first tooth, when everything went to shit. Logically, Bobby knew that this day would come, that at some point John Winchester would walk through the door and kick Bobby out, he just wished it wasn’t so soon. He had seen the bruises on Dean's arms, the scars on his back, the way he looked to Bobby for permission to eat, and when he got food, the way he scarfed it down. Bobby recognized the signs of abuse and neglect, had lived through the very same thing as a child, and had made a promise to himself to protect the boys but, when John walked through the door everything changed. In that moment, Bobby understood that there was nothing left of the John Winchester he had known, something more evil and sinister had taken his place. Bobby had lost his best friend and the boys had lost their father.

Bobby had met John Winchester years ago when they both worked for the same trucking company. They met the first day of orientation and they became fast friends. While Bobby left the company a few years later, their friendship remained. Bobby was the best man at John and Mary’s wedding, and was there when Mary gave birth to both Dean and Sammy. It was after Mary's tragic death that John began to drink heavily, and he wasn't afraid to use violence to get his point across. Bobby couldn't help but compare John to his own father, a perpetual drunk who took out his anger and sadness by beating his wife and son mercilessly, so Bobby distanced himself, he had to for his own sanity. But he always thought about the boys and worried that one day they would be on the receiving end of John’s rage. John had changed from a loving, caring family man who was so, so proud of his two boys, into some sort of monster. Bobby always felt that the day Mary died, Dean and Sammy lost John too. When John’s mourning took the shape of an empty Jake Daniel’s bottle, Bobby kept an eye out for any telltale signs of abuse, but then the visits became less frequent until John moved the kids about 75 miles away to Sioux City, Iowa. It was close enough to get to in case of an emergency, but too far to check-in on the boys every day. So, Bobby sent them birthday and Christmas cards, made sure to include his phone number and whatever kind of extra money he could scrap together. For a long time, the cards were sent to different motels, hotels, and apartments until John finally settled the boys into a small, one-bedroom brick house on the outskirts of town. Bobby made sure that Dean knew his phone number, could recite it back from memory, and told him to call if he ever needed help. So, Dean did, and Bobby came, and John returned, and Bobby broke his promise. When John walked through the door that day, wobbly with drink, and demanded that Bobby leave, he broke his promise to the boys. Instead of protecting the boys from John's wrath, instead of taking them far away from the abuse and neglect, he walked away. He didn't fight back, he didn't argue, he let John slam the door in his face, and he made the decision to turn his back on the boys and leave them with a monster. The guilt of his cowardly inaction, of breaking his promise, coiled in his heart and stomach and keeps him up at night. He prayed that he would get a chance for redemption and today his prayers were finally answered.

Truth be told, Bobby needed the boys as much as they needed him and, for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone. Besides his relationship with the Winchester boys, Bobby was a loner, by choice and necessity. His earliest memories are of being abandoned: His 5th birthday, sitting alone at the kitchen table and staring at the mess of chocolate cake and blood smeared across the kitchen floor, remnants of his father's rage against his mother for burning dinner; or, when he was 8 and, after a particularly violent beating, that left him with a broken wrist, his pleas to go to the hospital were ignored; or, at school, where he kept a careful distance between himself and the other students and teachers, so they wouldn't ask too many questions about his bruises and unexplained absences; or, when Karen, his one true love, started talking about marriage and having children, and Bobby ran away, ended their long-term relationship, and forced himself into a solitary existence in fear that his father's legacy of violence was somehow written into his DNA. That the punches, slaps, and kicks, the broken beer bottles and cigarettes left more than just scars behind, but had somehow altered Bobby, had left a violent imprint that would rear its ugly head once he became a father. So, Bobby learned to accept his loneliness, had almost grew comfortable in this self-imposed isolation but then he met John Winchester and everything changed. The moment he held Dean as a newborn baby, the stone wall he had built around his heart crumbled.

The sound of a car horn snapped Bobby back into reality and before he knew it, he was pulling into the cracked and crumbling driveway of the Winchester household. The house was smaller than he had imagined, and signs of neglect were etched in the landscape. The sun-scorched grass, weeds that had suffocated the beauty out of the flower beds, and overgrown bushes framed the house and made it look abandoned, but Bobby knew better. So, he walked up to the front door, knocked, and waited for Dean to answer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I hope you are all having a wonderful day! I want to thank all of you who have stopped by and read this work, it means so much to me. Every time I get a Kudo or a comment it brightens my day! For those of you who have commented, thanks, for those who have not, I would love to hear what you think of the story so far, or just for you to say Hi!  
> Okay, so about this chapter...Sorry if this chapter seems drawn out but I think it is really important to explore the boy's backstory a little bit and what kind of problems Bobby is going to deal with. As I said earlier, I absolutely love Bobby's relationship with Dean and Sammy and I really like to write about it. That being said, Bobby will finally start taking care of Dean in the next chapter.  
> I want to warn you that there is a lot of child abuse in this chapter.  
> Also, the italicized section is Sammy's flashback.  
> I hope you enjoy! xoxo

Bobby was just about to knock on the front door again when he saw Sammy's face peek through the curtains in the living room window, and soon after, he heard the deadbolt unlock.

"Uncle Bobby! You made it!" Sam said, wiping away tears of relief. "D-dean's really sick and I'm not sure w-what to do. D-daddy left yesterday and I'm r-real s-scared. I'm s-sorry we c-called, we're s-so sorry..."

It broke Bobby's heart that Sammy was apologizing, that at six years old he already knew the pain, fear, and loneliness of neglect, and that he felt it necessary to apologize when he asked for help. Bobby picked up Sammy, wrapped him in his arms, wiped his tears away, and kissed his forehead. "Uncle Bobby is here, there's no need to be scared, I'll protect you. Can you be a big boy and help me with Dean? It sounds like he's real sick and it's our job to make him better!"

Sammy's eyes widened, "Yes! I want to pretend to be Dean's doctor and you can be his nurse! But...."

"But what Buddy?" Bobby said as he brushed Sammy's bangs from his eyes.

Sammy shifted from one foot to another, and his voice trembled "We d-don’t have any medicine... D-dean gave me the rest of it last w-week when I had a headache and n-now there's n-none for him."

Bobby took a few deep breaths before answering. "Well, maybe we can make him some soup? That always makes me feel better."

Sammy tried, but failed, to hold back the tears. "We don't have any f-food. I-I ate the last p-piece of bread and the r-rest of the p-peanut butter and jelly this morning. I f-figured it was ok because Dean was s-sick but now we have n-nothing."

Bobby inhaled and exhaled slowly, goddamn John Winchester, what kind of fucker leaves his kids with no medicine or food. What kind of bastard damages his sons so bad that they are conditioned into thinking they are a burden. "Okay, Sammy. Don't worry, I'll get all the medicine Dean needs and I'll get some groceries after we check on Dean."

"But we don't have any money. I could wash your car… or do your laundry… or cook… or clean-up..."

Bobby could feel rage boil up inside him at the suggestion, and it took all he had not to scream in an anger and frustration, but most of all sadness. "No Sammy, there will be none of that..."

Sammy’s confused at first and then it hits him like a ton of bricks, Uncle Bobby doesn’t want his help, doesn't trust him enough to do the kind of work that Dean had been doing since he was four. Uncle Bobby was just like his Daddy after all, he would force Dean to work, despite being sick, or tired, or hurt.

 

_Sammy is eating the last bowl of Lucky Charms and hears Dean's stomach growl despite his poor attempt at covering it with a cough._

_"You sure it's okay if I have the rest? We can share"_

_"No, Sammy, that's for you. I already told you I ate earlier when you were napping. Eat up, that's dinner for tonight."_

_Sam knows this isn’t true. Sammy knows Dean hasn't eaten since breakfast the day before. He knows a lot of things like, Dean needs new shoes that won't pinch his feet and leave blisters on the back of his heals when he walks to school, that he needs a proper winter jacket, and hat and mittens, and clothes that are clean and without holes, but most importantly Sammy knows that Dean needs their Dad, needs to feel loved and cared for, they both do. They need their Dad to care if the cupboards are empty, that there’s no hot water because the bill wasn’t paid, that Dean is bullied at school because his greasy hair, and outdated, ill-fitting clothes..._

_Sammy is shaken out of his thoughts when the front door suddenly swings open and his Dad stumbles in, he has shadows under his eyes that look like bruises and days-old stubble on his chin. His Dad throws off his boots, walks to the fridge, cracks open a beer and sits at the kitchen table. Sam peaks over the couch cushions and watches with bated breath as Dean approaches their Dad, slowly and deliberately as if cornering a wild, rabid animal_

_"Dad... Sir…"_

_John slams down his can of beer and looks at Dean, "What the fuck do you want boy?"_

_"P-Please S-Sir…I-I was...I-I was w-wondering..." John cuts Dean off with a slap to the face._

_"What the fuck did I tell you about stuttering? What the fuck is wrong with you? Your eight years old and you sound like a fucking baby! If I hear you stutter one more time, you're going to wish you were never born!"_

_Dean clears he throat, wipes his eyes and runny nose with the back of his hand and starts again. "Please Sir, I was wondering...we need food, Sammy needs food, we don't have any here..."  John stands up so quickly that his chair knocks over in the process._

_"You little fuck! You think that money grows on trees? That whatever little Dean wants he gets?"_

_Dean wills the tears away that are welling up in his eyes, threatening to betray him. "No, Sir. I just thought..." Sammy hides his face with a pillow from the couch as his Dad slaps Dean again._

_"You thought? You thought what? That I care about you, you ungrateful shit? That I'm going to head out and buy you food when you haven't worked for it? When you haven’t showed you deserve it?"_

_Quietly and quickly, Dean asks, "What can I do? I'll do anything?"_

_Pleased with himself, John sits back down at the table, and gives Dean orders. Over the next few weeks Dean learns his lesson and Sammy watches helplessly. It doesn't matter that it's the middle of winter, and Dean has a cold, he needs to wash their Dad’s truck, or they won't get breakfast. It doesn’t matter that their Dad had mercilessly beaten Dean the night before, that his bruised ribs make it nearly impossible for him to do laundry, if they want groceries, he must do it. And it doesn’t matter that Dean almost faints from hunger and exhaustion as he scrubs the floors with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge, their Dad knows Dean will do anything to keep Sammy fed. It works until it doesn’t, when their Dad finds Dean asleep in the basement one night when he was supposed to be doing laundry to earn the right to eat dinner. Dean is punished, tied up in the basement for days, with no food or water, and is used as their Dads personal punching bag. Finally, when their Dad thinks Dean has learned his lesson, he carries him upstairs, dumps him on the couch, holds the end of a lit cigarette to Dean’s forearm and very calmly explains to Dean that he can either pay for the privilege to eat through work or pain, the choice was his. And so it went, and so it would go now that Uncle Bobby was here._

 

Suddenly, Sam falls to his knees and grabs Bobby's shirt out of desparation, "Please d-dont make Dean do it...he's too sick...I p-promise I can d-do a good job, I won't m-mess up, please..."

Bobby wanted to say a million things, like they would never suffer like that again, that they would never be in want for food, medicine, or any other fucking necessity. He wanted to say he was so, so sorry for abandoning them, that the thought of Dean and Sammy having the same childhood he had kept him up at night and brought him to his knees at church. He wanted to say all this and more, but the words that came out of Sammy's mouth made it hard for him to speak, all he could do was stare Sammy in the eyes and say "No."

With that, big, fat tears ran down Sammy's face and he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. Sweat slowly trickled down the side of his face and he searched Bobby's eyes for an explanation. "Then how are we s-supposed t-to pay for the f-food and m-medicine? Daddy says we..."

Bobby cut Sammy off at the point, knowing full well what Sammy was going to say, that John made them pay for everything, like eating three square meals a day was a fucking privilege that Dean had to pay in sweat equity or pain. "Why don't we go check in on Dean? I'm sure he'll be happy to see us!"

With that, Sammy turned on his heels, and headed for the kitchen, Bobby took a deep breath in-and-out and followed close behind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I hope you are all doing well! Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter, I hope it is well worth the wait! Thanks again for all of the Kudos and Comments, they put a smile on my face:) I would love to hear some feedback on this story, so please, please comment!  
> Some quick notes- there is abuse in this chapter and the italicized sections are flash-backs.  
> Thanks for reading. I hope you have a fantastic day!  
> xoxo

Bobby followed Sam through a tiny hallway that led to the kitchen and there, on the cracked, yellowing linoleum floor was Dean. Before they got any closer, Sammy stopped in his tracks, turned to Bobby, and once again offered his promise to pay him back, in whatever way he wanted, to make sure Dean got better.

" I know you think I'm too young, too weak but I can work...I...I can do anything you need...just...just...."

Bobby cut him off with a raised index finger to his lips. "Shhh... Hush now Sammy. We don't want to wake Dean up and startle him." Sammy fell back, tears glistening in his eyes, and watched as Bobby approached Dean with a look of deep concern on his face.

Bobby moved deliberately slow as to not wake Dean who was sleeping on the kitchen floor, his head propped up on a ratty pillow and a worn out, dingy blanket was draped over his too- thin frame. In sleep, Dean almost looked peaceful, the seemingly permanent furrow of his brow had smoothed, the lines of sadness and fear almost disappeared, but Bobby knew better. He could see Dean's fever-stained cheeks, rivulets of sweat running down his face and pooling at the base of his neck, soaking his shirt, and the slight tremor that shook his shoulders. Bobby wasn't sure what to do, he knew he needed to help Dean but didn't want to frighten him, he didn't want to wake him up and see the fever-induced panic that was sure to be in his eyes, so he waited before moving any closer. Dean reminded Bobby so much of a wounded animal, unable to take care of itself but so afraid of asking and receiving help.

_Bobby just finished a 24-hour, long-haul trip when he decides to head on home instead of waiting until the morning. Armed with an extra-large cup of coffee, and a box of day-old donuts, he gets in his truck and begins the long trip home. Halfway through his journey something darts out in front of his car and he hits it, sending the thing flying into the air and into the woods. Once his heart rate dies down and he can breathe properly again, Bobby gets out to check on his car and the thing he hit. Turns out his bumper is cracked, and his left headlight is shattered, but other than that he is fine, he can't say the same for the deer that is grunting and writhing on the side of the road. Bobby moves closer and the deer desperately tries to run away,but fails and kicks out at Bobby in a final act of self-preservation. For a moment all Bobby hears is his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and the sound of the deer's staggered breath, and then he kneels, puts his hand over the animal’s heart and waits for it to pass, he says a prayer afterwards and asks for forgiveness._

Logically, Bobby understands that Dean is not a wounded deer on the side of the road, but he can't help but make the connection, that Dean's condition is due to his negligence...that he wouldn't be laying sick and hurt on the kitchen floor if Bobby wasn't so careless...if he had paid attention... With all this in mind, Bobby knelt on the floor next to Dean, put his hand on Dean's shoulder, and tried to gently shake him awake. At first nothing, and then Bobby shook Dean again, a little faster and harder than before, and with that, Dean's eyes suddenly shot open. Dean’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot with dilated pupils but, what scared Bobby the most was his gaze, like he was looking at him but not seeing Bobby at all. Dean tried, but couldn't get up, so he curled in on himself and tried to protect his face with his shaky hands.

"Hey Buddy, it's me Uncle Bobby. You called me earlier, said you were real sick and needed someone to watch Sammy for you. I'm here now." With that, Dean started to shake uncontrollably, and a little whimper escaped his lips.

"Dad?" Bobby's heart sunk at the question.

"No Buddy, it's me, Bobby." Dean looked up at Bobby, but he clearly didn't see him, instead he saw his father.

"Please Daddy...P-Please Sir...I just need to sleep for a while and I'll be okay...Please...Sammy needs to eat, I'll pay for it later, I'll do more work, I won’t eat, just please feed Sammy." Sammy tried to get to Dean, to hold him and let him know that he was safe, that Uncle Bobby was here to make things right, but Bobby held him back. Bobby explained that Dean’s high fever was making him hallucinate and see things that weren’t there.

Bobby tried again, this time lowering his voice and speaking slowly. “Dean, it's me, Bobby. You're safe, you're Daddy isn't here. It's just me and Sammy." Dean flinched violently and raised his hands out in front of him, as though expecting a hit or kick to the face.

Through a particularly bad coughing fit, Dean managed to whimper out another plea. "Please Sir, I promise...P-Please...for Sammy."

Bobby knew it was the fever talking, and it broke his heart that Dean was stuck in a memory where he asked his Dad for mercy and got something much more painful instead. Bobby needed to ground Dean, to do something that would give Dean connection to reality. He remembered how Mary would sing “Hey Jude” to the boys to calm them down and, how after she passed, he would sing it to the boys for the same reason. So, very softly, he began singing the song, hoping it would bring Dean back to reality.

Dean was so, so scared. At first, he thought Uncle Bobby had come to help, but when he looked up he saw his Daddy's face, red with anger, ready to hurt Dean because he had fallen asleep on the floor. Dean tried to get up, to run away from the monster who would pummel his body until blood was drawn and bones cracked but he couldn’t, so he hid in the corner, and tried his best to protect himself from the abuse he knew was sure to come. His Dad was saying something about Uncle Bobby, but he couldn't make out what he was saying, his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, so he made offerings, promises instead, to placate the beast before him. He knew it was pointless, useless to beg for mercy, but he tried anyway in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. Somehow the memory of the first time being beaten for being too sick to work, has mingled with the present situation, and Dean is unsure what is happening, what is real.

_Dean is 9 years old and he is sick. Nurse Kathy at school thinks it's the flu but Dean thinks he must be dying. He can't hold any food down and the school day leaves him feeling so exhausted that he barely makes it home before he collapses on the couch and falls into a restless sleep. Nurse Kathy says that sleep is good, that his body needs rest, but his Dad has other plans. Dean's been sleeping for an hour, while Sammy watches cartoons, when he is violently shaken awake by his Dad who is staring at him like an animal going in for the kill._

_"What the fuck did I tell you about sleeping after school? Because your lazy ass decided to sleep instead of doing your chores, they'll be no dinner for you and Sammy!"_

_"But Dad..." John slaps Dean so hard across the face that Dean has trouble forming words._

_"What the fuck did you just call me?" Dean tries to wedge himself into the couch cushions for protection, his Dad takes a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back, so he's forced to look at his Dad._

_"You call me Sir, do you understand?" The grip on his hair tightens and Dean manages to whisper yes._

_"What the fuck did you just say?"_

_"Yes, Sir." With that, his Dad lets go of his hair and forces Dean to get up and marches him into the basement. Before they reach the bottom step, Dean throws up all over himself, a mixture of pain, fever, and the flu finally taking over. John pushes Dean off the last step and backhands him._

_"What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re fucking disgusting! " John beats on Dean until he can't stand and then kicks him until Dean is begging for mercy._

_"Please Sir..." John ignores his cries, ignores the blood oozing from his eldest son's mouth and nose, the way his elbow is bent the wrong way, and the pure panic in his eyes. Instead he tells Dean that Sammy will go hungry for the next 48 hours because his brother is a fuck up. Dean wants to say he’ll do better…he’ll be better… but all that comes out of his mouth is a garbled mess, and then he falls unconscious._

Dean is unable to escape that memory. He knows his Dad has caught him sleeping, knows that he should be scared, should be bracing himself for terrible pain, but then he hears the song his mother use to sing to him as a child, the same one Uncle Bobby used to sing to them when he visited. He can’t quite remember the words, but he knows the melody and it somehow grounds him and brings him back to reality. It’s only then that he realizes it’s Uncle Bobby, not his Dad, in the kitchen.

“Uncle Bobby, you made it…thank you, thank you so much…”

Bobby wipes tears from his eyes and wraps Dean in a hug, “Hey Buddy, I’m here now. Nothing to worry about. I’m going to take care of you.” Dean doesn’t want to drift off again, is scared that when he opens his eyes this will all be a dream, a fantasy his mind made up to cope with the pain and fear of being punished by his Dad, but Uncle Bobby is warm, and solid, and promised to make everything better, so Dean closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I hope you are all doing well! Sorry about the delay, I hope this chapter was worth the wait.  
> So, a few notes on this chapter- this chapter is mostly a flashback and I realize I include a lot of them in this story because I think the boy's backstory is as important as their current situation. Everything they have gone through really informs the way they behave and perceive the world around them. Dean's sickness is really a vehicle for exploring the Winchester's childhood. So, I apologize if the flashbacks get in the way, or seem to be dragging out the story too much but it's an intentional decision on my part so I hope you like them.  
> As always, the italicized section is a flashback and it contains abuse.  
> Thanks for stopping by to read this, it means a lot to me!  
> I hope you have a good night xoxo

Bobby knew he needed to move fast to get the boys as far away from their house as quickly as possible before John came home. He slowly untangled Dean's limbs from his own, gently placed his head back down on the pillow and cautiously walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway with Sam trailing behind him. Bobby kneeled before Sam, looked him straight in the eyes, and as calmly as possible asked him to help, so they could leave.

"Hey Buddy, can you do a big favor for Uncle Bobby? Could you start packing up some of your stuff?" Sam backed away and frantically searched Bobby's eyes for an answer, an explanation, an understanding for why he wanted him to leave. Sam tried to stop his chin from wobbling, the prelude to a deluge of tears that he knew would soon follow. He knew he shouldn't be crying but he couldn't help it, he didn't want to leave Dean alone, suffering from sickness that left him prostrate on the kitchen floor, defenseless. He remembers the last time he was forced to leave Dean alone.

_Sam doesn't know what to do, he has homework due on Monday on a topic he knows nothing about. As a treat, his teacher thought it would be a good idea to have the kids write about their Christmas traditions over the break and share them with the class when they returned. The problem was, that Sam had never celebrated any holiday, let alone Christmas. He knows what it's supposed to be like...he has heard other kids talk about Christmas trees and stockings… has read stories about a reindeer with a red nose and Santa’s elves… has watched movies and has heard Christmas songs blaring overhead in the supermarket… but he has no personal experience, no traditions, nothing to share._

_Sam kicks at the pebbles under his feet and waits for Dean to pick him up from school, he smiles when he sees Dean approaching._

_"Hey Sammy, what's the matter? Bad day at school?" Sam's not sure how to answer that question, he doesn't want to tell Dean about the assignment, he doesn't want to see the light in Dean's eyes dim the way it does when he has asked about their birthdays… or Thanksgiving… or their Mommy. He debates whether to tell Dean, and then remembers the pinky-promise they made a year ago, the one where they promised to tell each other everything. So, Sam blurts it out as quickly as possible and hopes Dean won't get too upset._

_"Mr. Henry gave us a stupid assignment about Christmas. We have to write about family traditions and share them in class on Monday." Sam looks to Dean and takes in his clenched jaw and slumped shoulders and knows Dean's upset, so he tries to fix it._

_"Sorry Dean, I shouldn’t have said anything. Don't worry about it, I’ll figure it out. Maybe we can go to the library over break and I can look at some books..." Dean doesn't immediately respond, and Sam isn't sure if he's mad until Dean turns to him, with red-rimmed eyes and a look of pure resolve on his face._

_"Please Sammy, stop saying you're sorry all the time, it's not your fault we don't celebrate anything. Don't worry, I'll find a way for us to have Christmas this year." With that, Dean begins walking again and Sam doesn’t miss the way Dean's knuckles have gone white from holding his bookbag straps too tight._

_Sam wakes up on Christmas morning and sees a tiny tree on the wooden coffee table with twinkling lights and presents underneath. He can hardly believe what he's seeing so he wipes at his eyes and looks again and there, in the center of the living room, is a tree but now Dean is standing next to it._

_"Merry Christmas Sammy!" Dean's smile is huge, it's the kind that Sam hasn't seen in a while, the kind that crinkles Dean’s eyes and showcases his missing front tooth._

_"I used the money Uncle Bobby gave me for my birthday, so we can have a proper Christmas!" Sam looks around for his Dad, logically he knows he won't be there, he's never there on holidays, but he silently hopes this time will be different. Dean’s smile falters and he tries desperately to regain his composure._

_"He's not here, shouldn't be back until tomorrow, sorry Buddy." Dean gestures for Sam to come and sit on the couch and open his gifts._

_“Sorry there isn’t more…” and with that, Dean gives Sam a new box of crayons, a dinosaur coloring book, and a bag of Red Vine licorice, all wrapped in old newspaper. Sam doesn’t know what to say, so he holds the gifts over his heart and gives Dean a hug._

_"Thanks, so much Dean! Merry Christmas!" They spend the rest of the day eating cookies and candy and watching Christmas movies until they fall asleep on the couch. Sometime between late night and early morning, their Dad walks in and wakes Dean up with a hard slap to the face. He shoves the empty candy wrappers in Dean's face, points to the tree, and slaps him again._

_"What the fuck is this?" Dean's too stunned to answer, and Sam tries to speak but nothing comes out._

_"Answer me you bastard!" Dean tries to pull his Dad's hands off the collar of his shirt but fails._

_"Please, Sir....Sammy...we...I wanted to celebrate Christmas this year..." John violently shakes Dean._

_"With what fucking money? How the fuck did you get this stuff? ANSWER ME!" Sam can tell Dean wants to say something but is too scared, too resigned in knowing that however he answers, his Dad will beat him unconscious, so he stays silent. Sam crawls into bed and covers his ears with his pillow, it doesn't completely block out Dean's cries for mercy, but it helps. In the morning Sam finds Dean bloody and alone, prone on the living room floor, the Christmas tree smashed against the wall. His Dad approaches him, and he tries not to flinch._

_"Hey Buddy, I got a big favor to ask you. Could you go and pack some of your stuff?"_

_"Why Daddy? Where are we going?"_

_"You're going to stay with Pastor Jim for the rest of the week and Dean's gonna stay with me…" Sam feels sick, he doesn't want to leave Dean alone, he doesn’t want Dean to wake up and think he just abandoned him so, against his better judgment, he decides to talk back._

_"I…I…don't w-wanna leave Dean...I...I wanna stay here with y-" He feels his head snap back before he realizes what has happened. It takes his brain a second to register that his Dad has punched him, that the intense pain radiating from his eye socket is from his Dad's meaty fist. Still disoriented, Sam’s reaction time is all wrong so, when his Dad slaps him across the cheek, he isn't prepared._

_"Who the fuck do you think you are? Do you need me to remind you that I own you? That what I say goes?" Sam tries to cower behind the couch but his Dad stomps over, crouches down in front of him and whispers into his ear._

_"I fucking own you and you will do what I say. If I find out you mentioned one fucking thing to Pastor Jim or Dean about our little conversation this morning, I'll make sure Dean pays. Get the fuck out of my sight and pack your shit, we're leaving in 10 minutes." With that, his Dad sits down on the couch, turns on the TV, and waits._

_****************************_

_Pastor Jim opens the door and his eyes go straight to Sam's swollen eye and split lip. Sam doesn’t know what to say but before he can fabricate some excuse, his Dad answers for him._

_"Dean and Sammy were rough-housing last night and it got out of control." Pastor Jim's eyes widen as he takes in Sam's battered face._

_"On Christmas? What did I tell you boys about that? The last time you visited, Dean had those bruised ribs, you gotta take it easy on each other." Sam wants to scream, to start talking and not stop until Pastor Jim knows about the starvation, and the beatings...how Dean would never lay a finger on him...that Dean is more of a father than his Dad has ever been, but he remembers the threat his Dad whispered in his ear, so he stays silent._

_John nods in agreement, "I know. I even got a Christmas tree this year, put their presents underneath it and by the time they were done messing around, the tree was smashed against the wall and there was a huge mess in the living room. Sometimes, I don't know what to do with them. I'm worried that someday they’re really gonna hurt each other, but you know… boys will be boys." Sam should be shocked at this blatant lie, but he's heard it before, it's nothing new, so he keeps his head down and waits for the exchange to end. Pastor Jim ruffles Sam’s hair and lets out a little laugh before he looks over at their car._

_"So, where's Dean? Is he still sick? Poor buddy, how terrible to come down with the flu on Christmas night!"_

_John sighs, "I know, I feel so bad for him, he was so excited about Christmas."_

_"So, if your here, who's watching Dean?" Pastor Jim is asking all the right questions, but his Dad is always a few steps ahead of the game so he's able to give all the right answers. His Dad doesn't skip a beat._

_"Dean's with Bobby Singer. He was passing through and said he could stay with Dean until I'm back. Thanks for watching Sammy, this way he can still enjoy the rest of his Christmas break and I can properly look after Dean."_

_Pastor Jim pats John’s back in approval. "You’re a good father, Mary would be proud." Sam tunes out the rest, he's not sure what he'll do if he hears more so he shuts his eyes and silently hums to himself. Before he knows it, his Dad is hugging him goodbye and Pastor Jim is ushering him inside._

_The week drags on and Sam can't wait to get back to Dean, he thinks he's probably the only 6-year-old that's counting down the days for school to start up again. It's not as though he doesn't like Pastor Jim, he more than appreciates the warm, clean bed, and three full meals a day, but all he can think about is Dean. His Dad picks him up  and he's a jumbled mess of panic and dread, he desperately wants to see Dean but is so, so afraid of what he'll find._

_****************************_

 

_Something has happened...Dean is broken, more so than he's ever been, and Sam's not sure what to do. Sam knew that Dean would be starved, beaten and burned, but what he didn’t know was that in five short days, Dean would be turned into some sort of robot who kneels when their Dad enters the room, eyes trained on the floor, and doesn't argue, doesn't struggle when their Dad screams at him and beats him for the smallest things. Dean is silent except for apologies...apologies for being a fuck up and a bastard...apologies for eating too much and taking up too much space...apologies for breathing...for his existence. In fact, the fight is gone, the light in Dean's eyes has been violently extinguished and all that's left is a hallow shell._

_It takes Sam weeks before he can get Dean to stop saying sorry all the time, to not flinch at every unexpected sound, to look Sam in the eyes, to eat more than a few bites of food throughout the day, to not kneel all the goddamn time. It's after a particularly bad night terror, when Dean is screaming and begging for their Dad to stop hurting him, that Sam decides he'll never leave Dean alone again. It's the least he can do for Dean who has always protected him. So, when Uncle Bobby asks him to pack his things, that's all he can think about._

"Where...where am I going? Please, Sir...I don't want to leave Dean... Please..." Bobby cuts him off before he can say more.

"I'm taking you and Dean with me...both of you... that's why I need you to start packing up some stuff. Can you do that for Uncle Bobby?"

"Yes! I can do that. I'll pack some stuff for me and Dean and we can go!" An hour later, Sam met Bobby in the kitchen with two overstuffed book bags at his side. Bobby picked up Dean, put him over his shoulder and hurried to his truck where he gently laid Dean down across the back seat. Bobby kissed Dean on the forehead and whispered an apology in his ear. Sam shoved the book bags in the trunk of the car, plopped down in the passenger seat and Bobby pealed out of the drive way as fast as he could. Bobby was finally taking the boys home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I'm so sorry about the delay in posting this chapter, I hope it is well worth the wait.  
> This chapter deals with abuse and the italicized section is a flashback.  
> Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and kudos, they mean so much to me!  
> I hope you all have a wonderful night! xoxo

They arrived at Bobby's house sometime in the late afternoon, the time of day when the heat and humidity cover the countryside like a heavy blanket. Thankfully, Dean and Sam had been out cold for the journey back and were just starting to stir as the gravel of the drive way crunched under the tires and the hum of the engine was cut off. Bobby looked in the rearview mirror at Dean and then over to Sam, who was rubbing sleep from his eyes and drool from his face.

"Hey guys, we're here. Home sweet home." With that, Bobby carried Sam into the house and told him to wait in their bedroom while he returned with Dean. Sam nodded his head and barreled through the living room and up the stairs to the room that Bobby had once set aside just for them.

Shortly after breaking up with Karen, Bobby decided to move to the country. It just so happened that while he was hauling his big rig across the state, he saw an old farm house for sale. Bobby guessed that at one time it was a masterpiece, with its wrap-around porch, iron railings, and bay windows embellished with stained glass, but now it was a mere shadow of its former glory. It was still beautiful but well-worn, Bobby supposed he could say the same thing about himself. So, without even looking inside, Bobby made a phone call and bought the house. Bobby set to scrubbing and cleaning, refurbishing and building, painting and decorating until the house was ready for the boys to visit. He was particularly proud of the room he reserved for Dean and Sammy, it was at the top of the winding wood staircase and had a large window that looked out to the back fields, where white tail deer munched on rye and clover. He painted it a beautiful shade of blue, that matched Mary Winchester's eyes, and decorated it with pictures of old cars, planes, and trains he ripped out of old magazines he found in the basement. The first time the Winchesters visited him, the boys ran to their room while Bobby gave John a tour of the house. For the first few years, John would drop off the boys, often unannounced, leaving them with Bobby for days at a time. At first, the boys would scream and cry when John dropped them off, but as time went on, they would scream and cry when he picked them up. John promptly curtailed the visits when he came to pick them up one night and had to pry the boys off Bobby and forcibly carry them to the car. Bobby knew that John had always been a jealous man, he just never thought he'd take it out on his kids. After that night, the boys came over less and less, until John moved them away just far enough that visits would be impossible. But now his boys were back, protected.

Bobby peered through the back window and caught Dean's eyes that were partially hidden by the sheet wrapped around his body. He opened the door, slid into the back seat, and helped Dean sit up.

"Do you think you can walk for me Buddy? Or do you need me to carry you?" Dean answered through rapid, shallow breaths.

"I..I...can walk."

"You sure Bud? I don't want you passing out on me."

"I...I won't...I...I...promise...please..." Dean tried to free himself from the mess of blanket tangled around his legs, and fell out of the car door, hit his bruised ribs on the unforgiving gravel below, and promptly passed out. Bobby carried him into the house, and into his room, where Sammy sat waiting.

"Is...is he okay? His h-head is b-bleeding, what happened? Why is he... why is he n-not awake? " Bobby laid Dean gently down on one of the beds and sat down next to Sam.

"Dean's okay, Buddy. He tried to get out of the car and fell by accident. It's just a little scratch, nothing you need to worry about. How about you and I head downstairs and make some dinner? I don't know about you, but I could eat a horse!" Sam laughed and scrunched up his nose in fake disgust.

"Yuck! Uncle Bobby, that would be so gross! You can't eat a whole horse!"

"Well, then I guess I'll have to settle for a burger and fries, how's that sound?" The growling of Sam's stomach was all the answer Bobby needed. While dinner was cooking, and Sam was watching old cartoons, Bobby had time to really check-in on Dean. He looked so small and fragile, and it broke Bobby’s heart when he began tossing and turning in his bed, weeping for the comfort of his mother’s presence.

“Please, Momma…Please, I need you.” At that point, Bobby fetched a cold wash cloth, sat on the side of Dean’s bed and pressed the cloth to his face and neck. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and Bobby could tell Dean was in a semi-conscious state.

“Momma?”

“No, Dean, it’s me, Uncle Bobby. I gotcha…hush now, go back to sleep.” Dean did as he was told, and Bobby wiped the tears that were streaming down his face. He was about to leave and get the thermometer and medicine from the linen cabinet when, suddenly, Dean sat up frantically and looked around the room in a panicked gaze.

“Where…Where am I? Sammy? Dad…Sir?” Bobby turned around and headed back to Dean’s bed.

“No Bud, it’s me, Uncle Bobby. You’re at my house in your bedroom and Sammy is downstairs watching TV. You passed out when we got here, and you’ve been sleeping ever since.”

“I...I passed out? I’m…I’m so, so sorry…I d-didn’t mean it. I t-tried to..to.. stay awake...” Bobby promptly cut Dean off.

“It’s okay Dean, you’re not in trouble, you couldn’t control it. Your sick and in pain, it was just your body’s way of protecting you.” Bobby could barely make out what Dean was saying through hiccupping sobs.

“No…No, I failed…I’m so, so sorry. P-Please d-don’t hurt me…Please…” And then Bobby could tell that Dean was lost, trapped in some terrible memory where he was punished for losing consciousness after the pain of being beaten, or the suffering of being sick, was too much.

_Dean comes to with a bucket of cold water to the face. He doesn’t remember where he is, or what he’s done, but he’s in the basement and his Dad is screaming at him._

_“What the fuck did I tell you about passing out? You’re such a fucking pussy! You can’t take punishment like a man. I bet Sammy wouldn’t act like such a little bitch, maybe I should start beating him instead of you…you ungrateful shit!” Dean tries to stand up, but his Dad makes sure he stays down with a swift kick to the ribs._

_“Stay the fuck down! You will stay here until your punishment is done.” Dean is trying to figure out what he’s done…trying to figure out why his Dad is so angry, but he knows it doesn’t matter, that there never has to be a reason._

_“Please Sir, I c-can t-take it…p-please…” His Dad wastes no time, and within seconds the belt lands violently on his already bruised and battered skin. It’s when the belt lands on the same spot repeatedly that Dean’s vision blurs, and he welcomes the refuge of unconsciousness, except it never comes. Instead, he wakes up with his head held down in a bucket of ice water. His Dad’s grip is so tight, that no amount of struggling will do, and it’s just when he is about to pass out that his Dad forces his head out of the water._

_“What the fuck did I tell you? You take your punishment like a man, and not pass out like a little bitch, and this can all be over.” Dean is coughing up water and bile, trying to fill his lungs with enough air so that he can respond before he is thrown on to the floor._

_“Okay, lets try this again.” And they do, two more times, before Dean somehow wills himself to stay conscious. In that moment he sees his mother, and as she strokes his hair, she tells him to stay awake, and so he does._

Bobby doesn’t know what to do, what to say, so he promised Dean that everything would be okay, that he and Sammy were safe…protected…loved. He also checked Dean’s temperature and woke him up quickly to give him some medicine and a glass of water before heading downstairs. He joined Sam on the couch and they both ate their dinner in between bouts of laughter at the cheesiness of some old movie. After dinner, Sam fell asleep on the couch, and Bobby carried him upstairs, and tucked him in bed.

It's about two in the morning when Bobby's startled out of his sleep, and it takes him a few minutes to register all that happened yesterday, and that the boys were sleeping soundly upstairs...or so he thought. A loud scream, and the pitter-patter of little feet, has Bobby running up the stairs to check on the boys. He doesn't want to startle them, so he collects himself and waits until he hears another scream and then opens the door. Dean is having a nightmare, that much is obvious, and Sam is laying by his side, gently shaking him in a futile attempt to wake him. Bobby can't help but notice how natural the scene played out, like this wasn't the first time Sam had tried to rescue Dean from the depths of a terrible night terror. When Bobby entered the room, Sam quickly looked at him, sniffed, wiped his eyes, and turned back to Dean

"He's having...having...a nightmare...I have...I can...I'll take care of him...please..." Bobby moved to sit next to Sam but backed off when he saw him flinch.

"Bud, what's going on? Why don't you go back to bed and let me take care of Dean? You need your sleep too." Just then, Dean began screaming, moaning, begging to be left alone, to not hurt anymore. It wasn't totally coherent but what Bobby did piece together broke his heart.

"Please, no...no...Sir, p-please...I'm s-sorry...sorry...p-please, no." Sammy wrapped his arms even tighter around Dean and his eyes darted to Bobby and then back to Dean.

"Please, Uncle Bobby, Sir..Please let me take care of him. I p-promise we w-won't wake you up again...please." Bobby clearly didn't know what to say or do, this was not how he had envisioned their first night together, but he was beginning to understand that he knew very little about the boys and the way they survived up until this point.

_It is the second time this week that Sam has crawled into Dean's bed and has tried to rouse him from a fitful sleep. It starts with little whimpers and ends with Dean screaming and begging for mercy while thrashing around in his bed. Sam was glad that their Dad wasn't home the first night, but they're not so lucky tonight. Before he has the chance to wake Dean up, John seizes Sam by the back of his pajama collar and flings him to the floor._

_"What the fuck is this? What the fuck is all the racket in here? You ungrateful shits can't even let your old man have one, decent night sleep?"_

_"It’s...it’s just a nightmare...I’ll take care of it...please, sir...please..." John cuts Sam off with a kick to the ribs._

_"You'll fucking take care of It? How the fuck do you think you'll take care of It? What's little Sammy going to do, hmm?" Silence._

_"Answer me you little fucker!!" Sam lies on the floor and stares at his Dad's heavy, steel-toed boots, knowing that he doesn't really want an answer. His Dad back-hands Dean so hard that he immediately sits up and gasps for air like he was just underwater about to drown._

_"What the fuck is wrong with you? What did I tell you about letting me sleep at night? Not only did your antics wake me up, but when I came in Sammy was awake, taking care of your sorry ass. You've lost the privilege to sleep in here, you're going in the basement until you learn your lesson."_

_Dean has barely a moment to think before he's being hauled to the basement and thrown down on some old canvas army cot that John had left over from his time in the service. John walks up the stairs , turns off the light and locks the door. Dean stays in the basement until he learns to stifle his screams into his pillow._

Bobby knew he should reassure Sam that he had nothing to fear, that Bobby would take care of Dean, that it was no longer Sam’s responsibility, but it was late, so he decided to sit down and talk to them both when Dean was better.

"Ok, Sammy. I'll leave you to it, but if you need anything...anything at all, I'm right downstairs. Okay, Buddy?" Sam looked up surprised.

"Yes...thank you Uncle Bobby...I will." Bobby took one last look at Dean and went back downstairs and fell into a fitful sleep.

Morning came too quickly for Bobby, when he was woken up by Sam tugging at his pillow. He sat up and cleared his throat.

"What's up Buddy?"

"Um...Dean's awake but..." Sam trailed off and Bobby got out of bed quickly and put on some old, raggedy sweat pants and a t-shirt.

"It's okay, Bud, what's going on?"

“Dean’s awake…and…and..”

“Take your time Buddy.” Sam took a deep breath and continued.

“Dean’s awake and…we were wondering…could we have some cereal?” Bobby smiled and ruffled Sam’s hair.

“Of course, you can! I have Lucky Charms and Fruity Pebbles. Let’s go ask Dean what he wants.” Sam took Bobby’s extended handed as they went into the kitchen.

“Thanks Uncle Bobby.”

“No problem Sammy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I am so sorry it has taken so long to post this chapter. This chapter kept on growing and I wanted to make sure it was just right before posting it. The italicized section is a flashback and this chapter does deal with child abuse.  
> Thank you for reading this story and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sam insisted that he bring Dean's cereal upstairs, so Bobby followed behind and made sure most if it stayed in the bowl and off the stairs. Just as Sam was about to knock, the door opened enough that Bobby could see the spooked look in Dean's eyes. Dean tentatively reached his thin, shaking arm out and then grabbed Sam, pulled him into the room, and shut the door.

"We...we...have to g-go Sammy...we have to..." Dean begged before he was cut off by a coughing fit.

"Dean--"

"No l-listen...we shouldn't be here...I....I m-made a big m-mistake...I...Oh God, Sammy..." With that, Dean slumped to the floor, put his head in his hands and started pulling hard at his hair.

"He's...he's gonna k-kill me...he's gonna k-kill me...I'm so stupid...so fucking stupid..." Sam knelt next to Dean and rubbed his back in a desperate attempt to slow down his breathing.

"Dean it's okay. Uncle Bobby is here, we are safe-" Sam was interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door.

"You boys okay in there? I got this cereal here that's getting all mushy, can I come in?" Dean sat up ram-rod straight, shook his head violently, and looked to Sam with pleading eyes, begging him not to let Uncle Bobby in.

"Just a...Just a moment Uncle Bobby. Dean's not really feeling hungry anymore and..." Bobby backed away, _give them space_ , he thought, _give them time_ , and so he went downstairs and left the boys in peace.

"Alright, but if you two need anything, I'll be downstairs." Once Sam heard the telltale signs of Bobby's footfall on the stairs, he turned to Dean.

"What are we supposed to do? I'm not going back to Dad...I’m not going back...I'm never leaving...Dean, please!" Dean's face was pale, and Sam could hear his teeth chattering.

"Sammy, y-you d-don't understand...Dad…D-Dad will...he will f-find me and k-kill me...he'll...he'll..." Dean gulped for air, he felt like he was being smothered. He tried to calm down, tried to focus on Sam's voice and the way his hand was rubbing circles on his back, but he failed. He was such a fuck-up...he was so fucking stupid.

_Dean has been preparing this for weeks, he's got enough supplies for Sammy and him to run away, to live in the abandoned barn a mile outside of town. He first noticed it on the way to a school field trip to the zoo. It was deserted, the rafters had rotted out and the moss-covered roof had caved in on one side. Nature had once again taken its place, American Bittersweet and Virgin's Bower wrapped their long, winding vines into the windows and out the clapboard siding, the Western Wheat and the Big Bluestem grasses, once used to feed cattle, were now wild and untamed, and a cluster of box elders flanked each side of the barn. It was a place that was visible from the main road but ignored by most, it was neglected, left to fall on its own. So, while the other kids screamed in delight at seeing the polar bear jump into the ice-cold pool, and others made funny faces at the monkeys, Dean was hatching a plan, he and Sammy would run away, eke out a living in the abandoned barn and finally be free. They'd survive on the food scraps Dean could get from rummaging at home and through the lunch room trash._

_Over the next couple of weeks, Dean goes to the library every day and reads as much as he can about survival in the wilderness- how to identify edible plants, how to build a campfire with a magnifying glass and a pile of dried leaves, and how to find clean drinking water. He learns that with the warmth of the summer months, they can forage for black walnuts, wild plums, and strawberries. The librarian asks, and he lies about his new-found interest, tells her that his Dad is taking him and Sammy camping over the summer and he wants to be prepared. She doesn’t need to know that in order to survive he has to leave his Dad, that at nine-years-old he's already learned that his Dad is scarier than anything he could ever face in the wild._

_Dean knows he needs to do something before it is too late. The beatings are becoming more frequent and much more intense. Without a warning, or any understanding of what he did wrong, Dean will be dragged to the basement, thrown on the cold, concrete floor and be beaten until his Dad gets tired. After, when Dean is able to painfully crawl to his cot, he lays awake and tries to think of what he did and the ways to avoid another beating, but it doesn't matter...he doesn't matter...he was beginning to really understand that his Dad didn't need a reason to hurt him, no amount of apologies or promising to be better would suffice. He was a fuck up, a disappointment, the bane of his dad's existence, and his Dad's personal punching bag. He had been abandoned, left to fall on his own. The punishments varied but the results always left Dean whimpering in the corner, bloody and bruised._

_During the school year, his Dad tried his hardest to hurt him where no one could see, too many bruises meant too many questions, and the last thing Dean needed was that kind of attention. Nurse Kathy had tried once, back when he was seven and she didn't quite believe that falling off a bicycle could cause a black eye and broken nose. She made a few calls and the next day he was pulled out of class and into the principal’s office where he was asked about his home life... Did he feel safe? Was he being hurt? How'd he get his injuries? It was a well-known script and he simply played his part. Yes, he felt safe... No, he wasn't being hurt, his Dad would never touch him...He was clumsy, hadn't got the hang of his new bike before he crashed into a tree. Truth be told, he's never even been on a bike, so he doesn’t actually know how to ride one, but they don't need to know that. He knows what he needs to say to keep the school officials from digging any deeper. Over the years, he's carefully built a facade but knows it could crack with the right pressure, so he answers in a calculated way that will leave the least amount of damage. But there's always damage. That very same day, his Dad barged into the house, screamed at him for drawing attention to himself, for making those bastards at his school call him at work, and then handcuffed him to the radiator and put a half pack of cigarettes out on his back._

_Dean knows that his Dad will get worse over summer vacation. Just when Dean thinks that his Dad has exhausted all methods of torture, his Dad surprises him with swift kicks to the kidneys that have him peeing blood in the morning...or holding his forearm over the stove top where the blue and yellow flames lick at his skin... or the nights spent tied up in the tiny shed in the backyard, next to cans of gasoline and pesticides that produced a noxious odor that inevitably make Dean violently ill. The last straw, though, was three weeks ago when he took too long doing the dishes and spent five days in the dark, dank basement, without food, and was forced to drink out of the basin sink. His Dad would come down, have Dean stand in front of him and force him to recite all the ways he was a fuck up, a useless bastard, a piece of shit, and if he missed something on the list, he would be hit and forced to start over again. While this form of punishment was painful and humiliating, what hurt worse was knowing Sammy was upstairs all alone with no one to protect him. Sammy was no stranger to their Dad's anger and had unfortunately been on the receiving end of their Dad's fists a few times, but he had never suffered the way Dean had, and Dean would make sure he never would. He would take them far away from their Dad someday and they would be free._

_With only a few days left before summer vacation, Dean begins foraging at home and at school. At home it is tricky, he has no real access to the fridge or cupboards because they are locked, but he can rifle through the trash and probably find something edible. He has done it before when days without food leave him desperate enough to dig through cigarette butts and empty beer cans to find something to fill his aching belly. Unfortunately, he finds very little, some week-old pizza crust and a half-eaten bag of stale and soggy potato chips, but that's it. It's when he's taking the trash to the curb that he has a brilliant idea- he has all night to go through his neighbor's trash before the garbage trucks come in the morning. It's like his prayers have been answered...he's so excited that it barely phases him when his Dad throws him violently on the living room floor before leaving for work. He waits until Sammy is in a deep sleep before he slips out the front door and heads to his neighbor's houses where he quickly makes work of the garbage bags and the contents inside. The only light comes from the street lamps above so he's not entirely sure what he has but he squirrels it away and can inspect it later. It's all going well, better than expected, until his neighbor three doors down comes out with a broom in hand shouting about "those damn raccoons."  Dean takes this as his cue to stop and heads back home. Collectively, the stuff he's got really reeks but he hopes at least some of it will be good. Surprisingly, he's does pretty well, all things considered, so he puts what's edible in his book bag and throws out the rest. He is so deliriously happy that he goes to sleep quickly and dreams of freedom._

_At school it's also difficult but he manages to slip into the lunchroom between classes and grabs whatever he can find. He's grateful and envious that his peers can be so wasteful, that their stomachs are so full that they have the luxury of tossing out food that Dean has to beg for. Turns out, he finds plenty of food... unopened little zip lock bags full of carrots and grapes, whole apples, half-eaten bananas still in their peels, and scraps of homemade sandwiches. He puts them in his locker until school ends and adds it to his collection at home._

_He doesn't exactly tell Sammy they are running away, he can't risk anything being said to their Dad, so he lies, and tells Sam to pack some clothes because they're going camping. It's almost too much excitement for Sam to manage but he quickly packs his ratty duffel bag and sits on the edge of his bed and waits for more directions._

_"Wow, Sammy! You did that real fast, I'm so proud of you." Sam's eyes light-up and happiness tugs at the corner of his lips._

_"Can we go now? Where we going? Is Daddy coming? How long will we be gone?" Dean sits down next to Sammy and ruffles his hair._

_"We're going tonight...To a really cool campsite...No, Dad can't come, he'll be working but he's so happy we are going...We won't be gone long..." It physically hurts to have to lie to Sammy, but he needs to for their own protection. Sammy nods his head in understanding and then goes back to playing with his G.I. Joe figures._

_"I'm gonna go pack up the rest my stuff and then we can go after dinner, so we can get to our camping spot before it gets dark." Sam looks up and nods his head._

_"Okay, Dean! And, thanks, this is gonna be the best summer ever!" Dean almost breaks down at that...he almost falls to his knees and screams and cries... he almost decides to desert his plan, or go on his own, but he can't abandon Sammy and leave him to suffer at the hands of a monster. While he's almost always the target of his Dad's rage and disgust, he knows full well that it'll take very little for his Dad to turn to Sammy once he's gone. Sammy will pay for Dean's transgression with a pound of flesh and he doesn't want him to suffer. Sammy has never had to go to school with hunger pains so intense that he can't concentrate; he's never had to change in the bathroom before gym because he doesn't have enough excuses for the cuts, bruises, and scars that litter his body; he's never been so cold at night that he prays for sleep to escape, but is scared he won't wake up in the morning, and Dean will make sure he never does. Dean needs to do this, he needs to take Sammy far away, he can't abandon him and leave him to fall on his own. So, he takes a deep breath, turns on his heels and goes to the basement to pack._

_It all goes well until it doesn’t...until he hears the sound of his Dad's work boots overhead. He's not supposed to be home until the morning and Dean is not sure what to do. He tries to remain as quiet as possible, holds his breath and hopes his heartbeat isn't as loud as it sounds in his ears. The best-case scenario is his Dad will get a beer, click on the TV, and fall asleep. The worst-case scenario is-_

_"Dean, where the fuck are you?" Dean can tell he's headed for Sammy's room and tries to get there in time but he's too late...he's always too late._

_"Hi Sammy, where's Dean?"_

_"He's downstairs packing for our camping trip! I'm so excited! I wish you could go but Dean said you couldn't."_

_"I wish I could too, buddy. When are you guys planning on leaving?" The closer he gets to Sammy's room, the clearer he can hear his Dad's voice, it's a dangerous mix of honey and venom that has the power to elicit Sammy's devotion which will ultimately lead to Dean’s suffering. His Dad sees him the moment he turns down the hall and charges at Dean with all of his strength, knocking him to the floor._

_"What the fuck is going on, you fucking bastard? Planning on going somewhere? Did you really think you could leave me?" It's hard for Dean to answer when his Dad's boot is grinding the side of his head into the floor, but he tries to answer anyway._

_"N-No…No…D-Dad…Sir…no...p-please..." His Dad presses his boot harder against his skull and black dots fill his peripheral vision before his Dad backs away, hauls Dean to his feet and carries him downstairs. Before he knows it, his Dad throws him into the bed of his pickup and about 30 minutes later they stop in the middle of a wooded area. He's thrown out of the truck bed and onto the forest floor and struggles to get onto his hands and knees before his Dad kicks him down again._

_"Oh Dean... what am I gonna do with you?" His Dad circles around him and Dean lays, waiting._

_"I have tried so, so hard with you but you never learn. Why?" His Dad kicks him in the side again. "Answer me, you little fucker! Why?" Dean clears his throat, tries to answer but nothing comes out._

_"Oh, so now you have nothing to say? Seemed to me you had plenty to say to Sammy! ANSWER ME NOW! SAY SOMETHING OR I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!" Dean tries, he really, really tries but the words are stuck in his throat. His Dad makes good on his promise and stomps on his right hand until Dean can feel every bone break, and he screams until he passes out, and wakes up with his Dad towering over him._

_"So, you think you're some kind of a big shot trying to run away? You think you can survive out here all by yourself? Well, today's your lucky day!" Dean's confused until he realizes his Dad's going to leave him in the middle of the woods._

_"P-Please...please-" His Dad starts stripping him, leaving him shivering in his boxers._

_"Just shut the fuck up Dean! You had your chance and you blew it! You think you can survive without me? Look at you, you're so fucking pathetic." Dean feels his Dad's spit land on his cheek, but doesn’t have the energy to wipe it away._

_"I'm...I’m...s-sir...I’m…so...sorry...please-" A kick to the head leaves Dean stunned and confused and it's not long before he slips into peaceful unconsciousness._

_Dean learns a lot over the next four days like how to hold his broken hand just right so that the pain of movement doesn't have him passing out; how the forest is peaceful in its solitude until the night comes with a chill that seeps into his bones; that the books he read were useless... By the end of the fourth day, Dean is lying listlessly on the forest floor, the effects of starvation and dehydration making themselves fully known, when he hears the familiar sound of his Dad's truck. He would laugh if he had enough energy at the irony of the situation, the sound of his Dad's truck always meant impending pain and humiliation and yet, today, Dean can't help but celebrate the sound. A few minutes later, he hears branches snap under the weight of his Dad’s boots._

_"Dean? Dean? Where are you boy?" Dean doesn't have enough energy to respond. He knows his Dad will find him, he always finds him._

_"Dean? Come on now, where the fuck are you? I don't wanna-" His Dad walks closer._

_"There you are, answer me the next time I fucking ask you a question." For a split-second Dean swears he sees guilt in his Dad's eyes as they look over his prone form, but it's quickly replaced with the cold hatred he's grown to expect._

_"On your feet NOW. I'm not carrying you, so get the fuck up or I'm leaving you here." Dean struggles to sit up, it takes a few tries before he's able to stumble to the truck._

_Once at home, his Dad takes him in the basement where he inspects his swollen, disfigured hand._

_"I’m gonna bring down some food and water, and I’m gonna need to set your hand tonight but I'm not doing anything until you promise me that you'll never try to run away again." Dean has trouble focusing and understanding what his Dad's saying so when he's not quick enough with his response, his Dad backhands him hard across the face._

_"Promise me you little shit! Promise me you'll never try this little stunt again! If you do, I'll kill you!"_

_"I...Sir, I promise..."_

 

Dean tried to leave but Sammy barricaded himself in the doorway.

"Sammy, I gotta go, please let me go. I need to leave..." Sammy screamed and Uncle Bobby came barreling up the stairs.

"What's going on? Guys? Are you alright?" He opened the door and Sammy came tumbling into the hallway with Dean following close behind.

"Uncle Bobby, Dean wants to leave! Says he needs to go back to Dad or he'll kill him! Please Uncle Bobby do something!" Bobby turned toward Dean who looked pale and sickly.

"Dean, buddy...I can't let you go back there. You're Dad's hurt you and Sammy and it's my job to protect you." Dean tried to hold his ground while sobbing.

"You don't...you d-don't understand Uncle Bobby...Sir. You...you don't understand...he...he will k-kill me...he'll k-kill me..." Bobby walked over to Dean and wrapped his arms around his trembling frame and repeated the same promise over and over until Dean finally fell asleep.

"It’s over now…You are safe...I will protect you...I love you..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I'm so sorry this took so long to post but I was only able to work on it a little bit at a time. I hope it was worth the wait! This chapter, like previous chapters deals with child abuse.  
> Please feel free to comment!  
> I hope you have a great day!

Bobby gingerly carried Dean to his bed, covered him with a big, fluffy blue comforter, grabbed Sammy by the hand and made his way toward the bedroom door. Sam hesitated at the threshold, looked back at Dean, and after much trepidation, gently shut the door. Tears shimmered in Sammy's eyes before he squeezed them shut in a futile attempt to will them away. Worrying his lip, he looked towards Bobby, but clearly not at him, and whispered an apology and thank you. Bobby simply noded his head, reached for Sammy's hand and lead him downstairs.

For a long while they just sat in there in the kitchen, the sound of Sammy's spoon clinking and scraping his cereal bowl the only noise in the otherwise silent house. It was only after Bobby got up to make more coffee that Sammy decided to talk. He was so quiet that Bobby almost missed it. "Sorry....s-sorry... again about...that..." Sam briefly looked up at Bobby before training his eyes back down on his now-empty cereal bowl. Bobby knew he needed to tread lightly, he needed Sammy to understand that none of this was his fault, or Dean's, that they were safe

"Sammy..." Sam refused to look at him and instead swirled his finger in a droplet of spilled milk on the table.

"Hey, Sammy...Please look at me." He didn’t and chewed is thumbnail instead, so Bobby pulled up a chair and sat next to Sam. He desperately wanted to wrap Sammy in a hug and never let go, but his all too painful personal experience told him that this wasn't the time for that, right now he needed to talk to Sam...to somehow make him understand that things would be different. So, he simply placed his large, calloused hand on top of Sam’s fragile one, and started again. "It's okay that you're scared but I need you to know that you're safe. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you again. You have my word-"

"It's...it's n-not about me...it's D-Dean...". Sammy wiped away his tears that fell on the Formica tabletop before continuing. "Dean…he's...he's n-not safe...he n-needs help...I'm...I'm ok...p-please just...j-just take c-care of him... I'm...ok." Bobby knew this was the furthest thing from the truth, while Dean had bore the brunt of John’s rage, Sammy had not survived unscathed. He saw it in his malnourished frame, in his hesitant, jerky movements, in the way anxiety and exhaustion bruised the delicate skin underneath his scared eyes, and in the way his shoulders bent forward under the weight of years of abuse and neglect. He was also keenly aware that in order to help Sammy he had to help Dean first, he needed Sammy to understand that Dean was no longer his responsibility, that Bobby would take care of him.

"Alright Sammy. Whaddaya say I call my friend Rufus and he can take a look at Dean?" Sammy's eyes widened at the suggestion.

"Who's... who's Rufus?” Bobby smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"He’s an old buddy of mine. We fought together in 'Nam. He was an army medic that took care of me when I got some shrapnel in my leg."

"Does...d-does he know Daddy then?" Bobby sighed

"Yes...he knew him..." Bobby trailed off. It was only after Sammy coughed that Bobby broke from the memory he was so clearly stuck in.

"Would…would he...he w-wouldn’t...you wouldn't t-tell him that w-we ran...away...?"

"No Sammy, it's not like that. We were all in the same company together but they never got along. I think it was over some girl that they both liked, she ended up picking Rufus and your Daddy never forgave him. You don't need to worry, he ain't gonna say anything to your Daddy and he's gonna take real good care of Dean. I promise." Sam wasn't sure that it was a good idea, he was nervous that Dean would be too scared to let a stranger near him, especially considering his weakened state, but Sam knew that they had to do something, he knew Dean needed more than he could offer him. He remembered he felt the same way when Dean first told him about nurse Kathy, how her affection both confused and frightened Dean. He remembered being suspicious of her intentions, the food, clothes, and medical supplies she sent home for the both of them. His Dad had always told them not to talk to strangers, described in explicit detail the kinds of depraved things they would do to two innocent boys, it would be worse than anything they experienced at home. So, Dean and Sammy didn't talk...to anyone...for a long, long while until Nurse Kathy came along and showed Dean he was worthy of care and love, that he mattered.

"Okay, but..."

"But what buddy?" Sammy fidgeted with the hole in his shirt.

"You...you p-promise he won't...he won't hurt Dean?"

"Yes, I promise" and with that Bobby picked up the phone and called Rufus. Sammy tried to listen to the conversation, he picked up bits and pieces, but once Bobby realized, he walked away as far as the phone cord would let him. There was no use in trying to eavesdrop after that so Sammy washed his dishes and waited for Bobby on the couch. It wasn’t long before Bobby turned on the TV and sat next to Sam. Luckily Thundercats was on and Sam could zone out for a while.

"He'll be here in an hour, " Bobby sighed then he began again, "So what are Lion-O and Tygra up to now?" Sammy didn’t answer, he stared at the screen, clearly not there, so Bobby read the paper and let him be.

Rufus arrived earlier than expected, it was the military punctuality he just couldn’t shake, and talked to Bobby in hushed whispers in the front hall before he took his boots off and walked into the kitchen. Realistically, Sam knew that Bobby wouldn't bring over someone who would hurt him but his mind wouldn't stop thinking of how Bobby had abandoned them before, had knowingly let them suffer at the hands of their Dad and did nothing. He tried his hardest to push those thoughts into the furthest corners of his mind but it was hard and he was tired, he was so tired. Bobby coughed to get Sam's attention and it was only then that he saw Rufus in the room, standing next to Bobby with a duffel bag over his shoulder that Sam guessed was medical supplies.

"Sammy, this Rufus," Bobby smiled as he put his arm around Rufus' s shoulder, "He's been with me through thick and thin. We've been through hell and back together and he's saved me plenty of times. He’s a good man. He'll take care of Dean. You have my word."

Rufus started to walk over to Sam but thought better of it and waved instead. "It's nice to finally meet you Sam. I've heard such wonderful things about you and Dean over the years! Your Uncle Bobby loves you so much" Besides his deep, demanding voice, he was nothing like Sam thought he'd be, he saw it in his gentle eyes and warm smile.Sam tried to look in his eyes but the closet he could get was his shirt collar as he stammered out a quick reply.

"It's...it's nice to... meet you Sir. Thank you... for... looking at Dean, Sir." Rufus tried to move closer to Sam but Bobby shook his head and held him back.

"It's my pleasure Sam. I promise I'll take good care of him for you. Fix him up nice so y'all can have a good visit together." Sam was not entirely sure about any of that but he nodded his head in approval and followed them upstairs to see Dean. They decided that Sam would go in first, wake Dean up and let him know about Rufus, explain to him that he was there to help. It all went well until Bobby and Rufus walked into the room and Dean scrambled across the bed until his back hit the headboard.

"Stay...s-stay away...get the f-fuck away...stay away...don’t...d-don’t fucking t-touch me..." Sammy crawled into Dean's bed, held both of his hands in his own and reminded him that Rufus was there to help, to make Dean better. Sam was not sure if Dean finally believed him or if pure exhaustion finally won out, but within minutes, Dean had laid back down, complacent. Rufus took calculated steps towards Dean until he was at his bedside. Slowly he opened his duffel bag and, with military precision, began checking on Dean. For the most part, Dean did well, except for when Rufus ran his hands over his bruised ribs and he let out a small whimper through gritted teeth. Rufus made quick work to make sure they weren't broken and then gave a small container of pills to Sam to give to Dean. Afterwards, he packed up his things and headed toward the door but not before he asked Bobby to meet him in the hallway. Once there, he gave his full report on Dean. He really wanted to lay-into Bobby, but reminded himself that Bobby saved the kid from the hell he was so obviously living in.

"Bobby, I know you told me to not ask a lot of questions but what the fuck happened to that kid in there? He’s got a nasty case of strep throat that if you had waited any longer could have turned sepsis, not to mention a bunch of bruised ribs, and I don't wanna even think about all the scars I saw." Bobby didn't miss the way Rufus’s eyes glazed over and how his voice shook in anger and sadness. He thought back to Vietnam, how the same guy who applied tourniquets to limbs blown off by mines, and who held soldiers guts in while they lie dying in a field, was overcome with emotion at the sight of Dean. All Bobby could think of was how none of this would have happened if he wasn't such a goddamn coward, if he had stuck up to John, told him off and taken the boys that fateful night. He took a long, deep breath in and out before answering.

"I know...God, Rufus, I know. I should have been there...I should of-" Bobby put his head in his hands and fell to his knees, crying. Rufus kneeled next to him and just held him.

"But you're here now Bobby, it's going to be okay. Dean's gonna be okay. I've started him on a heavy dose of antibiotics and Tylenol to reduce his fever, so he should start feeling better soon."

"But I've fucked-up so bad! I'm never gonna be able to fix it! I don't know what I'm doing, I'm trying my hardest! I'm so scared." The last part came out more as a whisper and somehow it made him feel a little better to admit he was in over his head, he was scared, but he would do whatever it took to keep Dean and Sam safe.

"I know you are Bobby. You just need to take it one day at a time. Show them that you love them and will protect them and everything will fall into place. Speaking of which, where's Sammy? I’d like to do a quick check-up on him before we go. I know you said Dean's the one whose hurting but I wouldn't be surprised if Sammy's hiding stuff." Bobby's face paled.

"You think?" Rufus nodded his head.

"Yeah, I do. But you never know, maybe I'm wrong. I'd really like to know for sure before I head back home though." It was Bobby's turn to nod his head and then he started for the stairs.

"You're right, I'll go get him. It might take a while so it'll probably be better if you stay down here." Bobby waited outside the bedroom door for what felt like an eternity before he quietly knocked on the door and called for Sam. There was nothing but silence on the other side so Bobby carefully opened the door, mindful of the top, squeaky hinge. He was surprised by what he saw, even though he should have been expecting it. There, on the floor next to Dean's bed, was Sammy peacefully sleeping. At some point, he had taken the pillows and blankets off of his bed and made a nest for himself next to Dean. Bobby couldn't help but think that this was nothing new, that Sam had done this many times before, guarding Dean who lay unconscious in his bed. Sam stirred when Bobby stepped on a particular creaky floorboard, and the moment his eyes caught site of Bobby's work boots he sat up quickly. After letting out a big yawn, he rubbed at his tired eyes and addressed Bobby.

"Hi, sorry I fell asleep. I thought I'd just set myself up next to Dean and make sure he's alright." Sam put his blanket and pillow back on his own bed before continuing. "What do you need? Is there something I can do? I don't know how to pay you back but thanks…for Rufus...for Dean." Bobby rubbed his hand across his face, the stubble scrapped his palm below.

"Well, actually there is something Sammy. You see, Rufus down there wants to make sure you're alright before he leaves." Sam eyes immediately went wide and he moved toward Bobby in such a show of desperation that it made Bobby uneasy.

"Please Uncle Bobby, I'm fine, really! I promise! Dean's the one that needed help, please tell Rufus I'm good...please." There was something in the way that Sam answer that made Bobby certain that things weren't ok, that he was hiding some terrible secret.

"You’ve got nothing to be scared about Sammy. I'm responsible for you now and I need to know if you're ok. What kinda uncle would I be if I let Rufus go without making sure you're okay too." Sam tried his hardest to disappear into the space between his bed and the night stand but he knew from experience that it never worked, it only ever made things worse.

"What's he...W-What's he gonna do?”

"He’s just gonna look you over real quick, I promise..." Sam emerged from his hiding place and offered himself to Bobby.

"Ok, but please...please d-don't say anything t-to Dean. Please p-promise..." Bobby really didn't want to think about what that meant but he already knew...of course he knew… Sammy had been hurt by John too, he just didn't want to believe it. With that in mind, he picked up Sammy and carried him downstairs to Rufus who was waiting in the living room.

"Hiya Sammy, I'm sure your uncle told you I just want to do a quick check up, make sure you're all healthy before I leave." Sammy just nodded his head. "So, could you just sit over on the couch? I'll be done really soon." In that moment, he was tempted to just run past Uncle Bobby and Rufus right out the back door and into in the back fields but then reality came crashing down- he didn’t have anywhere to go and he could never abandon Dean, so he walked over to the couch and sat down. At first, Rufus checked his eyes, ears, and nose before moving on to listening to his heart and lungs. It was a pretty standard physical until Rufus asked him to take off his shirt and then Sam panicked. He tried to bolt from the couch but Bobby walked over and put his hand firmly on Sam's shoulder.

"Why? I don't...I don't want...I don't need to...I’m fine...really...please!" Rufus backed away so Bobby could kneel in front if Sam.

"I know Buddy, we just want to check, it'll all be over soon."

"You p-promise you w-won't tell Dean?" Bobby helped while Sam tried to pull his shirt off over his head. It took all Bobby had not to break down at the sight of Sammy's bareback that was painted with bruises, a grotesque watercolor of yellow, green, and dark blue. Rufus saw how uncomfortable Bobby was, so he stepped in and approached Sam the same way he did with the wounded soldiers he took care of in the war.

"Alright Sam, I'm just gonna check on a few of these darker ones so if you could just sit still for a bit, I'll make it quick. Let me know if I'm hurting you at all." The moment Rufus's handed ghosted over his back, Sam was gone, checked-out, waiting for it all to be over. He had tried to hide it all, the bruises, the newly scabbed over cigarette burns that decorated the inside of his upper arm, the way his skin stretched over his protruding ribs and the knobby spin, but he failed. It was never supposed to be about him, Dean always had it worse, he sacrificed himself to their father so Sam would be protected, Sam couldn't let him know it was all in vain. So, Sam took the beatings when Dean was locked in the basement, or tied up outside, or in the garage, or shed, or unconscious on the bottom of the stars. He took it all and shut his mouth because he never wanted Dean to look the way he had the first time their Dad really beat Sammy. He didn't want Dean to ever look so defeated, so heartbroken, so angry that he confronted their Dad about it and when he was hit, he hit back. Dean screamed and punched and kicked until their Dad knocked him out cold with a swift kick to the head. From then on, Sammy vowed to keep his pain a secret in order to protect Dean, it was the least he could do.

Sam jumped at the sudden movement next to him until he realized Uncle Bobby was helping him put his shirt back on and then wrapped him in a hug. Bobby was on his knees, arms holding Sammy tight, rocking him gently, and stroking the back of his head. "I'm so sorry Sammy...I'm so, so sorry Sammy. You're safe now, you're safe, he can't hurt you anymore." Sam closed his eyes and melted into the warmth of Bobby’s arms.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> Thank you for all of the kind messages and kudos. I hope I didn't sound like I was in anyway fishing for compliments with my last post, I just wanted to make sure that there was some interest in this story for me to continue. Thank you to all who said I should keep going.  
> Anyway, here's a new chapter, I hope you enjoy it!  
> Also, just a warning that italicized sections are flashbacks and include child abuse.  
> Thanks!

Sam melted into the embrace, let himself be enveloped by strong arms covered in well-worn flannel that smelled of wood smoke, motor oil, and laundry detergent. He felt the steady beat of Uncle Bobby's heart as he laid his head on his chest. He desperately tried to match his thunderous pulse with that of Uncle Bobby's but it was no use, he couldn't get it under control. Somewhere he remembered hearing about how the power of love could synchronize heartbeats and breathing between two people, it could take away pain by touch...so he tried but failed. His brief experiment was fruitless, it did nothing to quell the raging thunderstorm trapped behind his ribs, if anything it's all he could feel and hear. He wasn't sure he could hold on much longer, and then, Uncle Bobby shifted and put his large, calloused hands on either side of Sam's face, ducked his head to catch Sam's gaze and told him he loved him. In that moment it all collapsed, his valiant efforts to bridle his emotions cracked and crumbled into Bobby's hands. He was tired, and hurt, and scared, and once the tears started they couldn't be stopped no matter how many times he furiously rubbed at his eyes. With a fistful of Uncle Bobby's shirt in his hand, Sam openly wept for the abuse he and Dean had suffered and lamented the emptiness in his heart that left his soul aching for love and affection. It was in that moment that time, the endless expanse of worry and hurt melted and fractured, the old, predictable narrative replaced by calm, his heart beat mollified by Uncle Bobby's stillness. In time, his breath met the steady rhythm of his heart and Sam felt his eyes begin to close as he leaned into Uncle Bobby's arms once again. If it wasn't for Rufus's disruptive sneeze, Sam would have fallen asleep. Rufus wiped his nose with an old handkerchief he kept stowed away in his back pocket before speaking.

"Sorry about interrupting, I just wanna let you know I'm gonna head back home unless there's anything else you need help with?"

Bobby wanted to say that he had it all under control, that he could easily take care of the boys by himself but he knew that was a lie. He knew Rufus knew that was a lie. So he acquiesced and accepted the offer of help. It wasn't easy, life had taught him that it was dangerous to rely on anyone for help, that those who vowed to help were the ones who hurt the most.

 

_Bobby waits up all night for his father to come home from his third shift at the dairy processing plant so he can tell him about the first place prize he won for a story contest in the local newspaper. The contest was open to all kids in the surrounding area and the only requirement was that it had to incorporate some kind of Halloween theme. Bobby had long imagined a world where he was a hunter who fought off demons and monsters to protect humanity so, when he started writing, the story came naturally. The stories materialized at night when Bobby laid sprawled on the kitchen or bedroom floor, or the musty carpet when he was locked in his closet after a particularly bad beating when the pain was too much but not enough to render him unconscious. Instead, Bobby imagined an alternate life where he could successfully stave off evil, could fight back, could protect the world from the monsters that terrorized him._

_His mother comes home from the beauty parlor early with a newspaper clipping that announced his victory and his prize, a Schwinn Hornet bicycle in cherry red. At 10 years old, Bobby fully understands what his father thinks of him, it has been beaten into him from a very early age and, while most of his bruises and cuts eventually disappeared, the words his father constantly hurls at him leave indelible marks on his brain. So, he finally has a chance to prove his father wrong, to prove that he's smart and clever, worthy of his name in the paper and a new bike, but more importantly, his father's love._

_So he sits at the kitchen, and waits...and waits... He begins to nod off but then recognizes the audible click of the front door deadlock and he's wide awake waiting again. Bobby waits until his Dad kicks off his work boots and shimmies out of his jacket before approaching. He waits patiently in the kitchen until his Dad comes in, grabs a beer from the fridge, and is about to leave..._

_'Hi Dad!" His Dad whips around so quickly he knocks over a kitchen chair in the process._

_"Bobby! Why the fuck are you up!?! What have I told you about staying in your room all night!?! Do I have to fucking tie you to your bed to make sure you stay there when I'm gone?" Bobby realizes he hasn't thought this through, his Dad is pissed and if past experiences mean anything it's that no amount of explaining will appease the monster before him. But he tries anyway..._

_"Sorry Sir, I was just...j-just excited to tell you...to...you would be proud-" Bobby is cut off with a nasty backhand to the face that leaves him shocked and in disbelief. He's not entirely sure why he feels that way, he should've known better but the crushing reality that his Dad hates him is enough to knock the wind out of his lungs. His Dad roughly pulls him up by the collar, his dangling feet scramble to make contact with the floor and spits in Bobby's face. Bobby doesn't wipe it away, he knows better. He lets the mixture of saliva, chewing tobacco and beer run down his face._

_"Me be proud of you? Are you fucking serious? You're a pathetic excuse for a son! Useless, stupid, unlovable little shit!" His Dad throws him into the kitchen table and countertops before he lands on the kitchen floor, a crumbled mess, his left arm painful and tender underneath. He's in so much pain he lets go of the newspaper clipping he has held tightly in his hand and let it fall, a crumbled mess, onto the floor._

_The next day Bobby's at school and while he can explain away most of the bruising on his brand new bike, it's harder with his arm that lays useless and at a weird angle by his side, it takes all that he has to not scream and throw up every time someone bumps into him in the hall. But then there's 5th period with Ms. Leebert who expresses her concern and all of a sudden he's pulled into the nurse’s office, and guidance counselor, and principals office and they’re all saying the same thing...that they want to help, that he should trust them, tell them the truth, that all he has to do is ask for help and he'll be saved. So he does, and his parent's excuses placate the school officials, and he's eventually taken to the Hospital where his arm is set with three pins. Things are good for a while until he's healed and then his father is worse than ever before, finding new ways to punish and terrorize him to make sure he understands to never ask for help again. His father makes sure he's a quick learner as he kicks, stomps, pummels, burns, and starves the lesson into his body. It was in that moment Bobby vows to never ask for help, that help leads to insufferable pain. But then comes the Winchester boys and everything changes. He understands he needs help to save the boys, so he accepts the assistance that Rufus has offered._

Bobby took off is ball cap, scratched his head and put it back on again before answering. He let the words quickly tumble out of his mouth before he has a chance to catch them.

"Actually Rufus, I was wondering if you could run some errands while I stay here with the boys? I don't wanna leave Sammy here by himself in case Dean wakes up."

Sam almost interjected, he almost told them that he was perfectly fine taking care of himself and Dean, that he'd been doing it sesemingly his whole life but thinks better of interrupting two men who could easily break him in two.

Rufus nodded his head and breathed a sigh of relief, " I was hoping you'd say that Bobby! What can I help you with?" Bobby was embarrassed, he knew he needed to get the boys safely to his house but hadn't really thought the rest through. He existed on frozen dinners and junk food through much of his life and realized that wasn't good enough for the boys, they deserved better. So, he armed Rufus with a long grocery list and sent him to the store.

Once Rufus was gone, Bobby turned to Sam and asked him if he wanted a bath. Sam's eyes widened at the suggestion.

"Nah, Uncle Bobby, I'm ok," the last word was really more of a whisper and while Bobby knew that young kids would rather do anything then take a bath, something told him there was more behind Sammy's answer.

"I know you're ok buddy but I think it's a good idea. Just a quick one, get those knots out of your hair and I guarantee you'll feel like a new man!" Sam backed away until he was caged by the sofa and two arm chairs and there was literally nowhere for him to go.

" I...I can j-just use the hose in backyard-" Bobby cut him off so quickly that he flinched. Bobby sensed the panic rising in Sammy.

"No Sammy, come on buddy, it'll be nice, I promise. I'm sure Dean would be happy to know you got nice and clean." Sam visibly deflated, hung his head, and let Bobby lead him to the bathroom. The moment the cold water started to fill the tub, Sam was somewhere else, incorporeal, waiting for the punishment to be over.

 

_Sam is lying still in the freezing cold bath water and waits for his Dad to come get him. He gets that he has to be punished, he's not supposed to sneak food to Dean when he's tied up in the shed, but it has been two full days and when he takes out the garbage he can't help it when he hears Dean’s whimpers. So, he sneaks Dean a granola bar that their Dad rips from Dean's hand before punishing Sam in the bath tub._

_So, now he's in the tub, freezing. It’s one of his Dad's newest forms of torture when Deans isn’t there to protect him. It leaves no marks and this means no questions by concerned neighbors and teachers. Sudden fatigue replaces shivers that wrack his tiny frame and make his teeth chatter. He's so, so tired and about to close his eyes and slip into oblivion when he gets pulled out of the tub by his hair and lands hard on the wet bathroom floor. He tries to get up, to get out of the way but his limbs stop cooperating with his brain and he can't seem to remember how to stand. His Dad takes this opportunity to chain him to the base of the toilet and that's where he stays, shivering again, through the night._

 

Sam's confused when Bobby turned the hot water on and it mixed with the cold water already in the tub. Bobby poured in some shampoo and bubbles rise to the service and he beckoned for Sammy to come near and test the water. It was heavenly and when he stepped into the tub, tension he didn't know he had, melted away. Bobby gave him time to acclimate to the water before helping him scrub the dirt and grime off of his body and hair. By the time Sam stepped out of the tub the water had turned a murky gray, a mix of soap residue and dirt. He looked to Bobby, an apology in his eyes and on the tip of his tongue but Bobby paid him no mind, opened the drain, and helped Sammy dry off.  Once they stepped out in the hall they saw Dean, sitting on floor, eyes staring at nothing, so it's a complete surprise when he addressed Bobby.

"Hi Sir..Sam...can I....is there a way....if I can maybe get clean too?"

A wide grin spread over Bobby's face.

"Yes, son, but first let’s get you something to eat."

"Okay Sir...Uncle Bobby." And the three of them made their way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

 


End file.
